Milkshakes and Mayhem
by MorganOfTheFey
Summary: Castiel hears "Milkshake" by Kelis for the first time. "MY MILKSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD, AND THEY'RE LIKE," "How did a milkshake manage to have a gravitational pull that is gender specific?" Minor bit of Destiel, based on a post I saw on tumblr
1. All These Milkshakes and yet no Boys

MY MILKSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD, AND THEY'RE LIKE—

"Ugh, turn that shit off!" Dean complained, reaching over and twisting the volume button down himself.

"How did a milkshake manage to have a gravitational pull that is gender specific?" Castiel questioned his tired boyfriend.

"I—what?" Dean shook his head and swiped a hand over his face. "No, Cas. It's just a song."

"But she said—"

"Listen, it's too late for this, and I need my two hours of sleep."

Castiel accepted his quick goodnight kiss, but squinted up at him in confusion. "I thought you required four."

"Yeah, well...Metatron isn't going to find himself, so until _we_ catch that bastard, your name is still mud." Dean said, standing up and stretching beside the world map table.

"My name is Castiel. I am the Angel of Thursday." Castiel reminded Dean, in case he had forgot.

"I—it's...are you coming to bed or not?"

"I will stay vigilant for any sightings of Metatron." Castiel replied. "But you should rest. During my time as human, I required much more than two hours of sleep."

"Alright. Goodnight, I l-lo—"

Dean leaned down and kissed Castiel instead, hoping to convey all of his feelings through the physical action. That was how men showed emotion, right? Only instead of hitting stuff, he was kissing...his...boyfriend. Which was still pretty gay, but there was nothing gayer than saying _I love you_ to another man. Except maybe sucking dick, but they hadn't done that.

Yet.

Sometimes Dean wished Castiel would just let him call him a bitch, and then the angel would say assbutt back, and then he'd have the same system for saying it to his boyfriend as he did with his brother. But wow, maybe that was a little too close to Wincestiel, so—

"Dean!"

Dean opened his eyes and blinked, confused and a little arou—_panicked_ to find himself sitting in Castiel's lap. Straddling him actually, with his head previously resting on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Dean, you lost consciousness for several seconds and collapsed against me." Castiel informed him.

The hunter swallowed past his dry throat and tried to pretend the buzzing in his veins came from sheer exhaustion and not from how close his boyfriend's crotch was to his own.

"Because I am still a novice at kissing, I highly doubt that was the cause, although your knees do tend to go a little weak whenever I push you against hard surfaces."

Dean winced. Goddammit, there were some things that just weren't supposed to be verbally acknowledged!

"I've determined the cause is exhaustion." Castiel announced.

"Yeah, I uh...I'm just tired." Dean muttered back.

"Alright."

The world suddenly spun, and Dean instinctively began thrashing, but supernaturally strong arms kept him from putting up too much of a struggle. When his vision cleared enough for him to see again, he realized he was being carried down the hallway.

"Aw, hell no, Cas! I can walk by myself!"

"Doubtful. What if you fell again, and I wasn't there to catch you?" Castiel asked.

Dean didn't reply. That was exactly what he was afraid of. What if he did start relying on the angel for stuff other than killing things? Like...emotional stuff and...things. What if one day he fell and Castiel didn't catch him? Or even worse, what if Castiel fell and _he_ wasn't there to catch him?

"I can feel you worrying. We have both fallen—literally for myself, although you did go to Hell—and we've both picked each other back up. I'm uncertain on many aspects of love, but I believe that is a primary part of it." Castiel said, holding Dean with one arm and opened their bedroom door with the other.

"I told you to stay out of my mind." Dean grumbled.

"I did." Castiel replied. "Your thoughts are just simple and very obvious to those around you."

The angel laid him down on the bed, and Dean glared up at him.

"Anyway ever tell you how great you are at stroking a man's ego?"

"No, but I'm glad you think so." Castiel said with a pleased and somewhat oblivious smile.

All of Dean's sass deflated, and he cooperatively allowed his boyfriend to take his jeans and shirt off, pull the covers over him, fluff his pillow, and generally tuck him into bed.

"Goodnight, Dean."

"Night."

Castiel walked away from the bed, but paused at the doorway. "I love you too."

He disappeared down the hallway before Dean could reply.

* * *

Sam turned onto the dirt road leading to the bunker, ready to put away the groceries, rare herbs, and cursed house slippers so he could call it a night. He stopped the Impala and cut the engine when he saw flickering lights in the field near the bunker though, debating whether or not he should call Dean or Castiel. Dean had been working himself to exhaustion trying to catch Metatron and clear his boyfriend's name though, and Castiel was notoriously bad at answering his cellphone. Sam considered praying to Castiel, but only one of the Winchester brothers ever got his prayers answered and it wasn't the tall one.

So with a sigh and a bitchface, Sam quietly exited the Impala and doubled checked his weapons. He'd just go up close enough to check out what was up there, and if he needed backup, he'd double back and call Dean. As Sam got closer to the flickering lights, he saw that they were candles surrounded many different containers full of something that surprisingly didn't appear to be blood. A lone figure stood in the middle of the arrangement, but as he moved, Sam recognized Castiel.

"Cas?" He called out, only half-lowering his gun.

If he thought there was a God left to pray to or an angel who wasn't a giant dick, he might have prayed that Castiel wasn't going insane and trying to take over the universe again.

"Oh, Sam." Castiel greeted, turning around fully. "Hello."

"Hiiiiii. What are you doing there, buddy?" Sam asked, keeping his gun at half-mast.

"I have learned of milkshake's propensity to lure in other males to one's yard, so I am attempting to draw out Metatron, although I haven't yet been successful." Castiel explained.

Sam blinked. Opened his mouth. Shut it. Blinked again.

"Is Dean asleep?" He finally asked, putting away his gun.

Castiel bent over and adjusted a cup of milkshake. "Yes, I put him to bed a little over an hour ago."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight, then opened them again. The scene was still the same. His brain offered up a dozen different replies, but he eventually latched on to one question.

"How did you manage to make all these milkshakes in an hour?!"

Castiel glanced back up and gave him a stern look. "As much as I would love to teach you Sam, I would apparently have to charge for that."

* * *

**A/N: I'm not sorry, and I regret nothing, not even the Supernatural pun. I saw a meme of Castiel on tumblr, and my plot bunnies held a gun to my head. Or maybe that was Deadpool...**

**I only meant for this to be half a page! It wasn't supposed to be like this, my Destiel feels just got so strong and—THIS WILL NOT BE A FIC!**


	2. Do You Know the Muffin Man?

"Dean."

Cas's voice was very low and serious, in that special tone of gravity only he could pull off. Dean's equally serious response was to flop over onto his stomach, bury his face in his pillow, and flip his boyfriend off.

"Dean."

A muffled _noooo_ came from where Dean was desperately trying to burrow into his bed.

"Dean, this is important."

The hunter finally lifted his head.

"Izza case?" he mumbled.

"Yes," Cas said. "Or at least, I think I've identified a possible case. I have a question for you about it."

Dean sat up and ran his hand over his face. "Shoot."

"Do you know the muffin man?" Cas asked.

"The muffin man?"

"The muffin man," the angel repeated, his expression making it clear he was serious about this.

"Fuck, Cas." Dean flopped backwards onto the bed and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Did you seriously wake me up for _this_?"

"I realize that the case may be difficult, but I discovered that this animated pastry lives on Drury Lane."

"Muffins aren't pastries," Dean muttered.

Cas continued talking regardless. "While the street is helpful, I can't figure out what city it's supposed to be in or even what state."

"This isn't a case."

"I've consulted the lore, and it seems legends of the creature have been passed down in a children's song."

"You seriously woke me up—"

"I think we're dealing with a tulpa that somehow brought a muffin to life—"

"—at three thirty five in the goddamn morning—"

"—or perhaps an instance of witchcraft—"

"—for this?!"

"Dean? Cas?" Sam carefully pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, both of his hands occupied with holding a gun. "You guys all right in here? There's not something going on, is there?"

"I found a case," Castiel said.

"He didn't find a case," Dean said.

The angel ignored his boyfriend. "Dean refuses to cooperate. Maybe you can help."

Sam lowered the gun. "Sure."

"Do you know the muffin man?"

"The … " Sam stared at Castiel. "Uh, the muffin man?"

"The muffin man."

Dean groaned loudly. "Don't get him started!"

"He lives on Drury Lane," Castiel informed Sam.

"Ooo-kay," Sam replied. "Yeah. I'm just gonna … go back to bed."

Castiel glared at him. "You didn't answer my question."

"Goodnight, Dean," Sam said on his way out.

Dean grunted in reply as his brother shut the door. Castiel turned his irritated gaze on the older Winchester.

"Does no one know the muffin man?"

* * *

**A/N: Ugh, god. I just don't even have an excuse for writing this. I think the fandom has collectively fallen into such angst that just _won't get better_ that all we can do now is write some fucking crack where the boys are happy(ish) and willfully ignore what's actually canon right now.**

**Please send some reviews! We all have to stick together in these dark times … **


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